Eight
by Burning 'Til There's Dark Blue
Summary: It's been eight years, and Tony can still remember everything as if it was yesterday. 9-11 memorial.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything copyrighted.

*~*~*

_Beyond the boundaries of your city's lights stand the heroes waiting for your cries. So many times you did not bring this on yourself, when that moment finally comes, I'll be there to help. – Citizen Soldier,_ Three Doors Down

*~*~*

"Tony?"

The man reacted to the sound of his name, turning away from the window, which showed a clear view of the Capitol building and, far away, the Pentagon. The sun was setting, casting shadows across the city and turning the sky a brilliant, deep purple. He came face-to-face with both the bright, fluorescent lights and Gibbs, who was standing there with a somewhat confused look on his face. "What are you doing here? The case ended hours ago."

"I'm watching the city, Boss."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It looks… peaceful, I guess."

"Only you, DiNozzo." Gibbs walked away, shaking his head due to the mixed emotions of frustration and humor.

Tony turned to look back at the night sky, this time putting one hand on the glass, focused on the buildings. It was strange how a city so peaceful-looking could have been part of something so horrible, only 8 years ago.

*~*~*

_8 Years Earlier…_

"Good morning, various agents and people whose names I don't know! How is everyone on this ridiculously early Tuesday?" Tony shouted happily, marching into the squadroom with a smile on his face.

"DiNozzo, what the hell is wrong with you?" Gibbs asked, sounding extremely annoyed. "It's 0830!"

"I'm in a good mood. I can't help it. It's a combination of sleep deprivation, pizza, and the James Bond marathon I have planned for this afternoon." The younger agent explained, walking towards his desk and sitting down, then leaning back, using his computer keyboard as a footrest and his hands as a pillow. "So what can I do for NCIS today?"

"You can stop talking like a character from Spongebob, for one thing."

Tony rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Well, considering how creative the people who write that show must be, I'm taking that as a compliment."

He continued to explain this logic for several minutes, at least until Director Morrow walked downstairs.

"Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo, will you two please come with me?"

Tony stood up somewhat reluctantly, looking at his boss for help. Gibbs simply shrugged.

The two followed the Director back to his office, where he closed the door and turned on the TV.

The agents stared in a mixture of shock and horror as they watched the Twin Towers burn.

*~*~*

"They hit the Pentagon?"

"D'ya think that you can see the smoke from downstairs?"

"What kind of dumbass question is that?"

"I don't know." Tony stated as honestly as he could. Unable to watch the news footage anymore, he turned and walked out of the office and downstairs to the squadroom.

Every single person in the building seemed to be watching the plasma or crowded around the window, watching the smoke on the skyline.

"So much for a good day." Tony muttered to himself.

*~*~*

_Present Day…_

Tony watched the lights flickering on the horizon. He had never really paid attention to the city lights, especially at 19:39, when he was usually at home or a club or a bar or something social.

He ignored the fact that the memory was making him cry, and then turned to walk back to his desk, pausing when he passed by Ziva's own desk, still empty.

"God, I miss you." He whispered to the nonexistent person in the chair.

He couldn't take being in the building anymore. In a mixture of anger and mourning, he grabbed his backpack and jacket off of the chair, managing to put on the jacket and dump his gun, badge, wallet, and several papers into the backpack at once before putting it on.

He turned and walked to the elevator, marching to music that only he could hear.

"_Citizen soldier…" _the lyrics buzzed in his brain as the doors opened and he stepped in.

They were true.

Everyone who had been in America on that day could say that those lyrics were true of him or her.

The elevator doors opened and quickly he rushed outside, the stars shining brightly. He pulled the jacket around himself, hating the fact that it was only 65° Fahrenheit outside.

But he couldn't expect things to always go his way.

Subconsciously, he reached into his pocket and wrapped his hands around Ziva's picture, worn out from the times he had pulled it out to look at it, then quickly put it back in his pocket.

"I miss you." He whispered.

*~*~*

**A/N: **8 years later and I can still remember everything, even though I was only 6 ½. So I thought, how much would it have affected someone in D.C. or NYC who was old enough to understand? And then I thought of Tony. This story takes place during my other story, _Iris, _which I will finish soon.

_9-11-2001 to 9-11-2009_

_God Bless America_

_Semper fi._


End file.
